Author: Marcus

infused with the fury of spring
a mighty young river flows
powerful and hopeful
with the buoyancy of youth
although unbeknownst to it
whatever rocks it may move
wherever it goes at the end
its force remains deeply constrained
by mountains long ago built
by framing ideas that persist
thick influences lingering past their due
as it happens to us as well
deeper than we can know
we keep flowing ahead
sometimes meandering around
towards a vast and distant sea

I normally post poetry here, not this sort of essay. In any case, as the subtitle of this site states, the poems are reflections about life and learning to live in this world. So, in a sense, this post does not deviate much of the main purpose of the site.

There are many internet pages delving into blogging, its pros, cons, hows and whys. I often feel interested in this sort of writing, as it gives perspective and I enjoy reading other peoples thoughts about things that matter to me. Today I experienced a completely different level of enjoyment though because I found Deborah Brasket’s wonderful post Touching & Being Touched, Why We Blog.

Deborah beautifully hits the nail on the head about what blogging means to me: to influence and let oneself be influenced by others. This is the essence of what true human interaction means to me, namely to mutually touch and enrich ourselves, intellectually and spiritually. True, lucky people like yours truly may also find this in the normal life outside the internet, but I believe that blogging adds another perspective and depth. There is no better or worse from my viewpoint, as I take them for complementary experiences.

Deborah’s post reminded me of some notes I scratched on one of my little dog-eared notebooks a few years ago, by the time I started these internet adventures. These notes are nothing nearly as profound as Deborah’s post, but reflect what I had in mind when I started these travels. I went back to them and found them still valid, well over five years after being jotted down on low-tech paper! I felt somehow happy and thought that there is some value in sharing these to you, so here is my humble perspective on blogging:

I write a blog because …
… I derive a lot of fun doing it
… I exercise and develop my creative writing
… I share my thoughts about the subjects I am interested in
… I expose my thoughts to people who may challenge them (a positive thing!)
… I connect to people that share those interests
… I contribute to a hopefully illuminating dialogue

I aim to (in order of priority) …
… post rich and meaningful ideas (most important)
… post beautiful texts (more often a wish, rather than a reality)
… post often (less important)

I will stop blogging when …
… I do not longer enjoy it
… I realize the time has come to move on to other things

I find writing very rewarding, and count writing this blog among a handful of things that can make a bad day bearable and a good day radiant. Some years ago I told you why I started doing this, now I said a bit more and added why I could possibly stop doing it some day.

Like this:

Fragile and ephemeral.
To those unaware eyes.
Crazy flickering lamps,
trembling in the wind.
But appearances are superficial!
See! on the inside there is a mountain,
and within the mountain a deep lake.
Genuine and unique,
self-reliant and authentic.
Behind the veil of softness,
there is an iron will,
a soul committed to the truth
and a spirit no one can defeat.

Like this:

Reducing excesses,
encouraging what is subdued,
within myself I hold a mountain.
Disguising my powers,
I cultivate modesty,
harvesting genuine strength
to cross the great water.
No blame.
Great success.

Like this:

I now choose:
this steadfast commitment
to a life of wisdom,
this relentless search
for proper engagement and detachment,
this healthy custom
of cultivating my inner garden.
In whatever circumstance,
in every place and moment.
In this one my only life,
I already made my choice.

Like this:

a timid winter Sun sets
over a thousand years ruins
once mighty monument
now rubble and dust
as I walk back to my path
I shiver at the thought
of the hubris and wrath
these old stones did command
now conquered by the bush
while the suffering and pain
went lost in the haze of time
I cannot help but reflect
how much of today’s sweat and stress
are already condemned
to become future rubble and ruins

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